15: Feels like Insomnia (?)

Ever since I can remember, these long nights have given me company. With the dark comes the rush of words and ideas and the restlessness.

I've never liked sleeping. I've never liked the idea that somewhere in the world, someone's having an adventure, and I'm just in bed-- not that I have adventures on a daily basis anyway.

I guess there's an underlying issue. I want an adventure and I'm stuck here waiting for one.  On some level, I used to refuse sleep because I was afraid that I might miss that which I had been waiting for. Certainly, I thought to myself, Asteroid B 612 was not discovered by those in slumber and Neverland didn't fly into itself.

I wanted to find my own story.

So I sat by the window and stared at those stars, and wondered how I was going to saw off the iron grills that kept me from outside (it didn't occur to me that I could just have wandered out the front door just as effectively).

No Peter Pans came my way, and The Little Princes of this universe remained elusive to me. The only thing I managed to do was drive myself half crazy hoping something grand would happen.

I wanted my story and I waited for it to arrive outside my window. Not anymore.

I want my story and now, I write it myself.